Lafcadio Hearn.
TO SENTARŌ NISHIDA
Kōbe, December, 1895.
Dear Nishida,—I suppose we have both been very busy—you with the winter school-term, and I with my new book. I trust you got my last letter, and that you know how grateful we feel to you for the advice and help given to Mr. Takaki, and for smoothing matters. We are also anxious to hear that you are well, and are hoping to see you this coming summer.
As for the naturalization business, it seems to hang fire.[2] A couple of months ago, there came to the house an official, who asked us many questions. What he asked me was not important or interesting; but his questions to Setsu were amusing. He enquired how long we had been together—whether I had always been kind—whether she thought I would always be good to her—whether she would be content always to have such a husband—whether she was in earnest—whether she had made the application of her own free will, or under pressure from relations—whether I had not forced her to make such an application—whether she held any property in my name. Afterwards she had to go to some office where she was asked the same questions over again. Since that time we have heard nothing. I am wondering if my request (or her request, I should say) will be refused. I suppose it could be; and I have not been over-prudent, for I did not reply respectfully to the offer of a place of some sort in the university—what kind of place I don’t know—made through Kano,—and I think Saionji has charge of the foreign business just now. Perhaps it is all right;—the delay, however, has its legal vexations:—money-orders having been made out, for example, in a Japanese name,—a little too soon. What a funny thing it all is.
I made the acquaintance some ten days ago of Wadamori Kikujirō,—the memory-man. He is a native of Shimane. I did all I could to please him, and hope to do more. He gave me an exhibition of his wonderful power,—and another exhibition to a small circle of foreigners to whom I was able to introduce him. They were very much pleased.
I think I told you that “Kokoro” is printed,—that is, in type. I am waiting only for the proofs. I think you will get a copy in March or April. Half of another Japanese book has been written, and part of another book (not on Japanese subjects)—so you will see how hard I have been working. Also my eyes are very much better. It seems to have been a case of blood to the eyes; and a doctor told me that if I took violent exercise I should get well. I did so,—and got quite well. I have only now to be careful.
Exercise was difficult at first; but now I am used to it. By exercising every day, I have kept quite well.
Kazuo, except for a cold, is all a father can imagine. He talks very well now, and tries to draw a little. I must get rich for his sake if I have any brains to make money. My friends in America and England predict good fortune for me. I am not too hopeful; but I think it is much better that I hereafter devote all my efforts to writing—until I find whether I can do well by it. Should I succeed I can travel everywhere, and Kazuo’s education abroad would not be a cause of anxiety.
Ever with warmest regards,